


Legasea

by Ovoriel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Innsmouth reference, Non-horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 08:26:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18616885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ovoriel/pseuds/Ovoriel
Summary: Cleaning the attic one day, Stiles comes across his mother's journal...





	Legasea

**Author's Note:**

> Before the last two seasons, all we really knew of the Stilinskis was that Stiles' real name was unpronounceable, his mother died from an illness that affected her mind and (among other things) had her claiming her tiny son is out to kill her, the sheriff had a small alcohol problem after her death, Stiles believed she would have been more open to the idea of the supernatural than his father and he himself was surprisingly quick to accept it jumping from an animal attack in the woods to werewolves without much skepticism and at least a little too excited and interested in the occult plus being a little more adept in magic than other humans. Therefor, it surprised me to find zero fanfics tying him to Lovecraftian lore.
> 
> So, this is my attempt at that. 
> 
>  
> 
> It's really short... :(

 

Stiles had always known his mother had a... strange attitude towards water. Not that she was aquaphobic or anything – in fact she was a great swimmer according to his father – nor was she otherwise adverse to it but... When it came to the ocean or a river or even a small pond she got... weird. She always refused to go near them with a strange mix of vehemence and regret, protesting almost angrily but her eyes holding a look akin to sorrowful longing. She wouldn't even let Stiles near it.

He also remembered the stories she used to tell him, old local folk-tales of the town she came from. Unique fairy tales about the sea folk, come from the ocean to form an alliance with man. Their friendship garnered the small fishing-boats safe passage in the worst of storms, aided the fishermen whose bounty was always plentiful since, and no one in the town could ever again fall victim to downing.

She never mentioned they were worshipers of Dagon.

Now, sitting in the attic looking through the journal he never knew Claudia kept, Stiles didn't know what to think. The way she described the call of the sea, how she had tried to resist it knowing the madness it would cause... His mother was sick. Frontotemporal dementia was hardly a supernatural condition. But sometimes the supernatural took a natural form, his own scare by “courtesy” of the nogitsune all but proving that. It made sense in retrospect, he supposed, but it was still a lot to take in. His mother had always been a more open person when it came to this kind of stuff, but he could never have imagined her being a part of it.

Oh yeah, she also neglected to mention that the grandfather he was named for but never met wasn't exactly human.

And what did it mean for him? Did it mean anything at all? Stiles was nothing special. Well, he could deduce like Sherlock and perfected google-fu to almost an art form, and his improvisational skills were not too shabby if he may say so himself, but... well he was no werewolf. Or kitsune. Or banshee. Or whatever else was out there. Just plain old, ordinary, **human** Stiles. Right?

He thought of what his mother wrote; of the fish people and of their aspects their descendants will develop if exposed to the sea. His eyes were more doeish than fish-ish last time he checked, and he was a good swimmer but not Phelps-level. He hadn't noticed any gills or new flippers showing up after his extended pool-time with Derek... Okay, so maybe he had no idea how he even managed holding that 200lb dead-weight, but... buoyancy, right? Yeah, buoyancy must have helped. Thank you water.

...But not in a weird cultish way.

Obviously.

Maybe it was something to do with a natural water source as opposed to an artificial one? And, now that he thought of it, Michael Phelps is said to have freakishly long feet... could they be cousins or something? 'Cause that'd be cool.

Anyway.

He needed to talk to Sco... no, he'll just give him the 'what planet did you land from' puppy-eyes at best...

...

He needed to talk to Lydia.

 


End file.
